


Fly

by WriteItSmall (scribblemyname)



Series: Comment Fic LiveJournal Stories [124]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Adrenaline, Assassins, Community: comment_fic, Coping Mechanisms, Established Relationship, F/M, Spies, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/WriteItSmall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha and Clint cannot afford to lose their edge, so they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/gifts).



> Prompt by leni_ba on the LJ Comment Fic comm: [any. any. Their drug of choice](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/562105.html?thread=79138745#t79138745)

They're assassins. They can't afford to lose their edge, so they don't—  
  
drink coffee,  
  
or alcohol,  
  
or take drugs,  
  
or especially drink alcohol—  
  
unless the mission calls for it, and sometimes not even then.  
  
Clint throws himself over the edge of a skyscraper, arrow nocked and flying off the string with his grappling hook. Natasha throws herself over the edge with less to hold her, less to trust in than a bow, but her hook holds steady as they swing into each other under the stars and laugh together from his balcony.  
  
The adrenaline pounds through their blood.  
  
Their fists meet flesh, and they dance with real, unblunted weapons, knives curling into openings near each other's dangerously vulnerable rib cages. Their feet catch and trip each other up. Clint flips with a carnie's grace. Her legs wrap around his neck and he goes limp so she'll remember not to kill him.  
  
The adrenaline courses through their bodies.  
  
They find themselves slammed against walls, clutching each other too fiercely, too hard. Fingers leave bruises, teeth leave marks on each other's skin and hips and stomachs and her head goes back and he surges forward.  
  
The adrenaline washes away the blood-slick memory and heat of the firefight, the dull ache and grief for the dead.  
  
They cannot afford to lose their edge, so they don't.


End file.
